


Firsts: A Non-Sanctioned Study of Alternate Universes

by Ashura



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashura/pseuds/Ashura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A timeline may change, but destiny doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts: A Non-Sanctioned Study of Alternate Universes

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ K/S Valentine challenge 2010.

**1\. First (n):** _Beginning._

  
The young man sat with a cocky grin and a stack full of books, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He'd been talking to a blonde girl next to him when Spock entered, but then his gaze had turned. Very well, Spock was used to that by now, used to people looking at him, wondering about him; he was by now immune to it.

“Hi there.” He had not expected the human to attempt contact. He turned, and the young man leaned closer. “Hey, have you got an extra pen I can borrow? I lent mine to somebody this morning and she never gave it back.” Spock fished one out and handed it to him without a word, but he kept on talking. “Thanks, you're a lifesaver. I'm Jim,” he added, thrusting out a hand. Spock just stared at it. “Jim Kirk.”

“I am...Spock,” he answered, not entirely certain what to make of this development, and not about to shake the human's—Jim's—hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Jim said. Spock did not think it logical to return the sentiment, even if it was a pleasantry.

\- - -

“I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly.” The Admiral nodded toward one of the front rows. Jim turned, watching a slim figure in blue rise from the stands and come forward. He was impeccable in the way that officers are, but _more_ , without a hair out of place, projecting a perfect calm that Jim found immediately annoying.

By the time this 'Commander Spock' had brought up Jim's father, all carelessly, like it was all just another statistic to prove his point, Jim realised he hadn't hated anybody that much in _years_.

  
 **2\. First (adj):** _before another in time, space, or importance._

It wasn't just that the story was sad, though the story was obviously heartbreaking. It was all the layers of loss, so raw and open that Jim absorbed it all without knowing what it was. The pain of watching Vulcan destroyed, of helplessness, of rents and tears in an old man's spirit—the knowledge that this was not the first time he had failed, and the echoes of remembered pain, of having that which he loved and could not admit to loving ripped from his grasp—it was nearly enough to drive him to his knees, and when the old Vulcan's presence was torn from his mind, like a drying scab off a too-fresh wound, he staggered backward, gasping for breath.

 _The first time he lost this man, Spock thought he had killed him, and something in him died too—the first of the resistance he clung to crumbled, the loss overwhelmed him. So did the joy, when he realised it wasn't true. The next time he lost him—oh, they had lost each other so many times, given up so much, challenged the very fabric of time and space to stay with each other, and only one was final, the last one, the one where Kirk was old and human and did not come back. But now should he be surprised? Because here is Jim Kirk again, and he knows in his heart that spirit will never die._

“So you do feel.” It was a too-obvious thing to say. But Jim was recovering still, from the look of awe and recognition in this strange Spock's face upon seeing him, at a faint light of joy that had nearly begun to surface beneath it all like the roots of a flower beneath the snow. He did feel, more than Jim would had ever even suspected. The frustrated loathing he'd felt for the younger Spock, the one who had carelessly trashed his father's name, who made a test that was impossible to win without cheating, that didn't understand how Jim just couldn't accept being told _you will never be good enough_ , in that instant it faded, because it is difficult to hate someone whose mind you think you have seen.

“I can tell you,” Spock said, “I am emotionally compromised. Jim believed him. And when he saw the younger Spock, later that day, he knew how to make it hurt more, knew how to tear him apart, but he no longer wanted to.

 _You loved me once_ , he thought, and there were fingers closing around his throat. _Or you will, or would have—I don't know how it works, but I have a feeling we were goddamn good together._

There wasn't time to worry about it, though, not then. The Earth was in danger, and it was bigger and more desperate and important than hurting someone he might have once called a friend.

  
 **3\. First (adj):** _inaugural: serving to set in motion._

James T. Kirk stepped onto the Enterprise for the first time as her captain. The walls were shiny, the equipment was new, the crew were hand-picked and some of the best in Starfleet. The galaxy was full of adventure and it was all theirs to claim, like the old explorers of Earth.

His first officer was already on the bridge with the helm and navigation crew. “Captain on the bridge,” he heard in that crisp, calm Vulcan voice. He could see Spock—his friend, as well as his first officer—watching him from the science station on the other side of the main control.

Captain on the bridge. It had a good ring to it. A really good ring.

\- - -

One station on the bridge was empty. It was five minutes before they were supposed to be pulling out of spacedock, and the _Enterprise_ was still down one senior officer. No one questioned Jim what they were going to do. They all knew. It wasn't official, it had never been _said_ , but they knew who he was waiting for, even if they weren't quite sure of why.

The doors slid open with a whirr. “You have yet to select a first officer,” Spock pointed out, calm and graceful, and Jim was grinning like crazy, like it was just another one of his gambles that paid off.

“I'd be honoured,” he said, still beaming, and the flagship of the Federation fleet eased out of her bindings and into the deep black of space.

  
 **4\. First (adj.):** _indicating the beginning unit in a series._

It didn't really happen by accident, Jim just wanted to make it look like it did. He was a little bit drunk, but it was really just for appearance' sake; enough for a buzz but not to make him do anything differently. He went to check on one of Spock's experiments down in the science lab, and made some pointless small talk about some reports or something that even he wasnt listening to and Spock sure as hell wasn't responding, and when Spock said, “Captain, my observations lead me to the conclusion that you have been consuming alcohol,” Jim rolled his eyes and kissed him.

It was sweeter than he meant—both in manner and in taste, because something about Spock's skin and mouth is just a little sweeter than normal, and Jim thought that if he tasted like that all the time maybe that's why Vulcans don't bother with dessert. At first he did nothing, didn't respond, but then ever so slowly he started to loosen up, and Jim stayed right where he was until he did. Spock's mouth was warm and pliant and Jim could hear his breath catch, and he cupped Spock's cheek gently in one hand when he pulled away.

“I have been,” he answered, belatedly, when it no longer mattered. “But not that much. Just enough to make sure to do that.”

Spock was looking at him a little stunned. “I want,” he began, and then stopped and corrected himself, because that would have meant expressing an emotional investment. “I believe that you should do that again.”

“Probably a lot of times,” Jim agreed.

\- - -

“I know you can feel, Spock.” Jim sounded frustrated, but when it came to things like this, he usually did. “I know you try to hide it, I know it's not _Vulcan_ , but I know it's in there.”

“I assure you, Captain, it is not.” Spock was perfectly aware he was lying through his teeth. It was just another bad habit he had developed under this man's influence. The list was getting longer by the day. Possibly by the hour. But he was a good starship captain, a good commander and, though Spock attempted to limit the times he admitted it out loud, a good friend. (He knew he shoud pursue _kolinahr_. He did not want to leave Jim. There was an inherent dilemma that he was putting off dealing with until the last possible moment of necessity.)

Jim was smirking; it was a favourite expression when he thought he had the upper hand. Spock had found it was generally cause for someone in the vicinity to worry. Currently, he was the only person _in_ the vicinity.

“I think it is,” Jim said, and kissed him. It took Spock by surprise, which he maintained for decades to come was his excuse for responding so ardently. That it was but the first of many, he offered no excuse at all.

  
 **5\. First (n):** _First base, as in the sport of baseball._

It was a goodnight kiss that lasted far longer than a goodnight kiss should. An otherwise routine conference over Starfleet communiques and duty rosters had been tense with repressed wanting on both sides, until Spock had said goodnight and paused at the door, a subtle signal that Jim was supposed to kiss him, now. He liked the kisses, he just had trouble with the idea of initiating them. Jim was getting good at reading between the lines.

So he had Spock pressed against the door, kissing him hard, eager, wanting him so badly he could barely breathe because this was just slower than Jim had taken a relationship since he was fourteen. His fingers twisted in the hem of Spock's shirt, lifting it upward, hips rocking not-too-subtly against him.

“C-captain-Jim-” Spock stuttering was much hotter than it needed to be, but Spock easing him away was not. It took Spock a moment to gather his composure, to catch his breath. “I believe that is sufficient for tonight.”

Jim did not ask, sufficient for _whom_ exactly, or even vocally disagree. He did sigh, and drop his hands to his sides. “Good night, Spock.”

“Good night, Jim,” Spock answered, and did not quite hurry out the door.

  
 **6\. First (adv):** _For the first time._

“You _are_ happy to see me.” It was a declaration, not a question. Jim might have been good about the whole thing while the Doctor and Nurse Chapel were in the room, but as soon as they were alone together, he was calling Spock on his—what would he call it? Undisguised joy?

Normally Spock would have denied it, or looked at him like oh look the pitiful human is crazy, but this time, more than anything else, he looked tired. “Of course I am...happy...to see you, Jim,” he said patiently, like he was spelling it out for a dear but particularly dim child. “I thought I had...I thought I had killed you. Had it not been for Doctor McCoy's intervention, I would have.”

“I don't believe that,” Jim said stubbornly. It wasn't actually murderous rage that he'd been getting from Spock, while they were rolling around on the ground together on Vulcan. “But it was definitely easier Bones' way. What still frustrates me,” he added, “is how you didn't tell me any of this sooner. It all could have been...well, so much could have been avoided.”

Spock shook his head. “I am not sure that is true, Jim. I would still have had to return to Vulcan.”

Jim rested his hands on Spock's hips and pulled him in close. “We could have planned ahead.”

Spock was promising nothing. “Perhaps.” But Jim was looking at him again, that secretive, smug look.

“Every seven years?”

Spock's face went green and he ducked his head. “Indeed, Captain.”

Jim shrugged. “Well, we know for next time. Right now, I think we have some unfinished business.”

Spock looked like he had a good idea where this was going, and like under the circumstances, he might not even bother pretending to mind. “Captain...?”

Jim took his hand. “We're both on medical leave for the rest of the night. Doctor's orders.”

Spock straightened his shoulders. “Medical leave does not mean one should indulge in...physical exertion.”

“Spock. I'm sure we can both handle it.” Jim leaned in, kissed him, soft but urgent, and Spock felt centuries of repressed instinct rushing to the surface in spite of his attempts at control. “I don't understand, Spock. Don't you want...this? Us?”

Instinct and want were too much for Spock to resist. “Yes,” he whispered, and it was almost a growl, and his voice was harsh and low and injuries or not he pushed Jim up against the wall. The moan he heard, though, was not of pain, but of eagerness and need. “Yes, I do.”

\- - -

Jim was entranced by Spock's body—by the long, wiry limbs of him, the smooth skin that turned faintly green when he got embarrassed or aroused, the dark feathery hair trailing down the centre of his chest and stomach, the pointed arch of his ears. He had become adept at reading the minute changes in expression, the million things one raised eyebrow could say, or the faint crease of a not-quite-frown or the subtle clenching of fingers. So he knew when it was time at last, when Spock said 'good night' but wasn't sure if he meant it. When Jim could shake his head and say, “No, stay,” and Spock would.

He took his time about it, which was not what he usually envisioned. He had thought it would be volcanic, that the heat and friction between them would continue to build and then explode, but he took even himself by surprise. He said, “Stay,” and Spock turned back toward him a nod of assent, a questioning look. Jim dimmed the lights but didn't turn them off, and he took his time, he unwrapped Spock like a present and covered each new-bared patch of skin in kisses. It was not the first time for either of them, but it was the first time together, and Jim did not enter Spock until he had claimed every inch of that body with his mouth, until human and Vulcan alike were trembling with need. He had imagined violence, but it wasn't like that. It was needy but subdued, sweat-damp and slow, whimpering and whispering and perfect, even with the bumped noses and the scratch on Jim's leg and a moment of getting too tangled up in the blankets. They lay still and quiet when it was over, and even then there was a question in Spock's eyes. Jim said, “Stay,” again, and pulled him in close.

  
 **7\. First (adj):** _preceding all others in time or space or degree._

They stood together on the bridge, facing the screen, shoulder to shoulder. A united front, ready to face together anything the universe, the Federation, the Klingons or anyone else could throw at them. They had lasted this long, they would last longer. There had been separations, fights, abandonment, even one or two attempts at dying, but nothing stuck. They were good together. Jim's fingers barely, lightly brushed the back of Spock's hand.

“Thrusters on full,” Jim said, without turning away from the screen. “Let's take her out.”

  
 _You once said being a starship captain was my first, best destiny… if that’s true, then yours is to be by my side._ *

 **[not the end.]**

**Author's Note:**

> *[From the [left-out scene](http://trekmovie.com/2009/11/23/read-the-star-trek-2009-scene-written-for-william-shatner/) from the 2009 ST script, if you haven't seen that yet.]


End file.
